Interview With A Killer
by outwittingsquirrels
Summary: A young reporter goes to Azkaban to try and get an interview with the notorious mass murderer Sirius Black. Rated for language. Will be some mild SBRL slash in second chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I think it's pretty obvious that I don't own this L ah well, a girl can dream…

_The case of notorious Death Eater Sirius Black is well-known of course. The wizarding community lives in terror of the mass murderer who now resides in the fortress of Azkaban, where he shall remain until his death._

_However, it is less well known that the infamous spy and murderer never received a trial, robbing citizens of their right to learn exactly what happened on Halloween night, just one year ago. In my interview with Black, I intend to reveal the motives behind what the Death Eater did and his connection to the Potter family who also reached their untimely end on that fateful night when the Dark Lord was defeated._

It was there that my article currently petered to a stop. I had to wait until I actually interviewed the scumbag Death Eater before I could continue. The idea of an interview with Black wasn't a new idea one. It had already been attempted by Rita Skeeter, a co-worker of mine with several years more experience than myself, but once I heard of her failed attempt, I realised that an interview with Black would be a perfect feature for the Prophet's five-year anniversary of You-Know-Who's defeat at the hands of Harry Potter. If I could do it. Once I received permission from my seniors, I applied for a visitor's pass to the prison. I got it without much bother; I had a friend in the Ministry who was able to get me a pass easily.

As a result of all this, I was currently sitting in a small, freezing cold room, alone apart from two intimidating (human) guards standing at the doors, looking over my almost illegible notes. I put the little notebook down on the large, grey table I was seated at and rubbed my hands together furiously to try to get some feeling back into them. I'd barely been here twenty minutes and already my extremities were going numb. And I couldn't shake an underlying sense of horror, of dread.

I quickly gave up trying to warm myself and began to examine the room, noting anything of interest for the article while remaining careful to avoid the stares of the guards. There were two doors in the room; the one I had just came in through, and another in the wall opposite me that was far more imposing that the other, simple wooden one . It was made of metal with several large Muggle locks and if I strained my ears I could make out the mad laughter and screaming of the inmates on the other side of it. I shivered slightly, not from the cold this time.

The room was divided in two, the table I was sitting at acting as a barrier between the two parts while a metal sheet running below the table and a thick glass partition above blocked any chance of escape. Besides the two doors and one tiny window that let so little light into the room it may as well not have existed, there was no break in the un-plastered walls.

I was abruptly interrupted in my examination of the tiny room by the bolts on the door opposite me rattling open loudly. A moment later, a man was half-dragged into the room, flanked by several more - also human - guards. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realised there would be no Dementors near me.

I quickly studied the tall, gaunt man before me as he was sat in the chair in front of me and shackled to the table. I had seen several pictures of him before he'd been imprisoned - hell, I'd been in the year above him in Hogwarts - but Azkaban had changed him so completely in five years that I wasn't sure I'd have recognised him in other settings. I remembered him as an insufferably arrogant but obviously intelligent boy who the girls fell in love with and who broke said girls hearts when he came out as gay.

I hadn't seen him in person since I left Hogwarts - and I wasn't at all sorry about it - but that boy had disappeared. I wasn't sure how much of that was due to Azkaban and how much he owed to his days as a Death Eater and killer, but the man in front of me had an almost dead look in his eyes as he regarded me coldly. He looked starved and his hair was matted and filthy - as was the rest of him. His robes were in tatters and his hands had become claw-like as they grasped the table.

'Who are you?' he demanded hoarsely, once the guards had retreated back to the door.

'I'm Xenophilius Lovegood, a reporter with the Daily Prophet-'

'I'm not giving you an interview so you can skew it arseways and make me look like an insane murderer.' He said all this slowly, with his eyes half-closed, as if in pain. Then he looked at me properly and licked his lips before adding,' so fuck off.'

'Do you want a fag?' I asked, disregarding what he'd just said and reaching into my jacket for my cigarettes.

Black glared at me for a moment before nodding. I passed him a cigarette through the little slot in the glass and dug my hand into my jacket again for a lighter. I lit his cigarette and then my own and took a drag on it before continuing.

'I want to do an interview with you for the Prophet. It's Halloween in a week-'

'What year is it?' he asked immediately. He hadn't yet put the cigarette to his mouth.

I frowned slightly. He didn't even know what year it was? '1986, five years since you were imprisoned.'

A look of disgust passed over Black's face and then he finally looked down at his cigarette. He hesitated - seemingly debating whether it was worth it to renew his nicotine cravings - before taking a long, indulgent drag on it. His eyes closed and shoulders sagged as the drug hit his bloodstream.

I shivered with the cold again.

'Chilly?' he asked contemptuously, cracking one eye open.

I ignored him, picking up my notebook again and flicking through the pages until I reached the one I wanted.

'On Halloween night 1981, five years ago next Friday, the location of the Potter family was betrayed to Voldemort and as a direct result of that James and Lily Potter were murdered-'

'You don't need to remind me,' Black said coolly.

'You were one of the first to reach the Potters' house that night, meeting Rubeus Hagrid. You asked Hagrid if you could take care of Harry but he refused, saying he had other orders from Dumbledore. Then you lent him your flying motorbike and he left-'

'How do you know all this?' Black croaked, suddenly looking uneasy.

I paused. 'Hagrid told me after he'd had a few drinks…'

He grimaced and nodded.

I took this as a sign to continue. 'It isn't known exactly what happened after that…? You just show up four hours later and blow up a street, killing thirteen. Then the Ministry wizards come along and find you laughing in the middle of the wreckage and they arrest you.'

'Want to know what happened?'

I nodded instantly.

'You'll laugh at this, it's extremely funny. Hilarious actually…'

I frowned in confusion.

Black put both of his elbows up on the table, rattling the chains a little, and lent in closer to me until he was nearly touching the glass, his cigarette hung casually from the side of his mouth. With his matted hair hanging down round his face and his rotting teeth bared in a wide grin, it was a frightening image. I leant back in my chair a little.

'Four hours was it?'

I nodded once more.

'I went to my mother and father's house - well, my house now. Do you believe that? I wasted my last hours as a free man in a place I spent sixteen years trying to get out of.'

With that bleak statement, he took the cigarette out of his mouth, threw his head back and laughed uproariously. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

I waited for him to stop laughing before I continued. 'Then Peter Pettigrew-' a look of terrible fury crossed over Black's face at the mention of this name '- tracked you down, cried out "James! Lily! Sirius, how could you?". You take out your wand and kill him and twelve Muggles with a single curse. The biggest bit of Pettigrew that was found was his finger-'

'That was the _only _bit they could find,' Black corrected me quietly. He brought the cigarette back to his mouth and inhaled deeply.

'What do you mean by that?'

Black exhaled a large cloud of smoke. 'The Prophet reported that bit wrong. They could only find his finger because that was the only bit of him there. The rest of him was running down a sewer as a filthy rat,' he spat.

'_What?'_

'It's what would've been found out had I been given a fair trial. My wand never cast a curse capable of killing thirteen people, Pettigrew's robes were still there, intact, while his body was supposedly blown to pieces. And I don't have the Dark Mark.'

'So you claim innocence then?'

'Obviously.'

'So why did you betray the Potters?'

A look of unmistakeable agony flitted over his face, disappearing again just as quickly. 'I didn't intend-…I thought Remus was the spy…not Pettigrew. It's none of your fucking business anyway,' he accused suddenly.

I looked at him for a moment before jotting down what he'd just told me in scribbled shorthand. 'When and why did you start working for You-Know-Who?'

'I never worked for Voldemort a day in my life, except…' he trailed off abruptly.

'Except?' I prompted.

'Nothing. I never once worked for Voldemort.'

'So if you didn't work for him, why did you tell him where the Potters were hiding?'

'If you're not going to listen to me you may as well leave,' Black said impatiently.

'I am listening but your explanations aren't making any sense,' I retorted.

'I never worked for Voldemort. I didn't intentionally betray the Potters. Peter Pettigrew worked for Voldemort. He betrayed James and Lily. I didn't kill Pettigrew. He cut off his finger so that the Ministry could find it, then he blew up the street and transformed into a rat and ran off. It's not that difficult.'

'There's a flaw in your wonderful story,' I said sceptically.

Black seemed to growl.

'Pettigrew wasn't an Animagus,' I pointed out.

'He was an unregistered Animagus,' Black persisted.

'Well done for persuading yourself of this lie. It seems Azkaban really has unhinged you,' I said coldly, standing up. It was very clear that I wasn't going to get much else out of him. 'I can send you a copy of the article if you like.'

'Fuck you,' Black said, his face livid as he stared at me.

'I'll be going so. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me.' I shoved my notebook into a pocket in my robes.

The expression on Black's face changed suddenly. 'Wait,' he croaked.

'What?'

He reached into his robes and took out a letter. 'Could you- could you give this to Remus Lupin. Send it or something. Please…'

I nodded curtly and took the letter through the slot in the glass partition. 'Remus Lupin?'

'Yeah…'

I looked briefly at the envelope and then back up at Black. 'Fine.'

He seemed to slump a little with relief. 'Thank you…'

At that, the two guards behind Black came forward and unlocked the manacles chaining him to the table. He stood up, rubbed his wrists and winced. Then he took one more pull on the cigarette and dropped the butt to the ground, crushing it beneath the heel of his foot.

The guards then brought him to the door, unlocked it and pushed him through. The door swung shut with a horrible finality. I shuddered and crossed to the door.

'Merlin, he really has lost it,' I said incredulously to the guard there.

'Black? He's probably the sanest one here,' he replied.

'What about this letter then?' I asked, showing him the yellowed envelope. 'What do you reckon it is?'

'Probably a death threat to some poor bastard. I wouldn't send if I were you mate.'

I nodded and went through the door. 'Thanks for the advice.'

As I left the prison, I dropped the letter into a rubbish bin with little regret.

_AN: I kind of used Lovegood because I assumed he would have spent some time as a serious journalist before starting up the Quibbler. I'm planning two more chapters after this; one from Sirius's POV and another of the actual article as it appears in the Prophet (maybe, not sure about that bit yet). Um…please review, I love you all! :D_


	2. Chapter 2

As I was dragged back down the empty corridor that led to my cell block, I thought back over what had just happened. My head was reeling. That isn't exactly unusual anymore I suppose.

I'd been here five years. And I'd be spending a lot more time here too. Unless I died soon. The thought distracted me and made me stumble. I was pushed forward roughly by one of the guard and ended up falling to the ground.

'Get up Black,' another guard said gruffly. I rose to my feet awkwardly, the shackles making it difficult to do so.

I thought of Lovegood. The second reporter to visit. I'd sent the other away almost immediately. Rita Skeeter. I wouldn't trust that woman if my life depended on it. I'd been told the day before her visit, that I'd have a visitor. I spent the entire night thinking of Remus, the only person who I thought might come.

And then Skeeter had shown up, her acid green quill ready to twist everything I said to the words of a heartless killer. I immediately told her to fuck off and then didn't answer any of her questions. I sat there for half an hour, stony faced, until she finally gave up and left. Then I went back into the darkness.

Lovegood didn't believe me. That was very clear. But he'd given me a cigarette and he promised to send the letter to Remus.

I thought of what I'd written.

Remus

Please come to see me, I can explain it all.

I still love you and I'm sorry

Sirius

It was short but I didn't know what else to say to him. What else could I say to him? Maybe I could have explained everything in a letter. But I thought he might believe me easier if he saw me in person. I was always a shit liar.

I desperately hoped he'd come before I lost my sanity. It was only a matter of time and I had plenty of that. The only thing currently keeping me hanging on was that I knew I was innocent, and the hope that someday someone might realise that.

But hope was cruel and five years was a long time. By now surely, everyone had forgotten about the Order member who betrayed his best friend and his family and killed thirteen people. Even Remus.

We finally came to the end of the bare corridor, to a door identical to the other I had just passed through. It was opened and a sudden, sickening wave of cold washed over me. The Dementors were always worse once you'd left them and came back. I sensed my vision begin to darken and walked forward at the urging of the guards as if in a dream - no, a nightmare. The horror of that Halloween night returned to me with a clarity I couldn't summon for most other memories.

Suddenly something shining appeared before the guards in front of me. I felt warm for the first time in five years and I realised what it must be. A Patronus for the benefit of the guards. As my senses began to return to me, I found myself on the ground for the second time. Had I fainted?

The guards hauled me to my feet, cursing me colourfully under his breath. I was pushed forward again and staggered down past the other cells. I didn't spare a glance for the other prisoners, I had heard enough from them to want never to see any of them. Besides, I was preoccupied with trying to savour every bit of warmth from the Patronus and recall every good memory I'd ever had while I had a break from the Dementors.

All too soon, I was forced back into my own cell. The bars slid shut in front of me and the guards disappeared with their Patronus, plunging me back into the cold again. Then the Dementors drifted into their constant positions outside my cell.

'_James! Lily! Sirius, how could you?'_

'_Hagrid? Hagrid? What happened? Wh-…' a young man called out frantically before stopping dead as he realised just what had happened exactly._

I huddled back into the very corner of the cell but it didn't make a difference. I let out a strangled cry and collapsed to the ground, shaking uncontrollably.

_AN: I much prefer the first chapter but anyway… There'll be one more chapter and then I'll finish it. Please review, as I said before, I'll love you forever if you do :D_


	3. Chapter 3

I noticed the owl at my window before even he started to peck at it. I was up from the shabby armchair immediately to take the Prophet from the barn owl, slotting some knuts into the leather pouch on its leg. The owl flew away as soon as I'd fastened the tie on the pouch, the sole living thing I'd had any contact with in several weeks. Besides my…clients. To put it euphemistically.

Likewise, the Prophet - evening edition, for I was never awake early enough anymore to pay the owl for the morning edition - was my only form of entertainment anymore. That, I had to admit, was quite pathetic. _Entertainment._ I snorted humourlessly. The Prophet was about as entertaining as watching paint dry.

I scanned the front page quickly first, making my way back to my armchair near the struggling fire, and instantly realised why I'd felt like I was forgetting something all day.

It was the 31st of October.

I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach, winded, gasping for breath. I strained to regain some composure before I could examine the paper again. Eventually, feeling sick to my stomach, I risked a look at it. It seemed the Prophet was enjoying the five year anniversary of my friends' deaths. One smaller headline in particular held my attention.

**BLACK CLAIMS INNOCENCE**

**Notorious mass murderer Sirius Black, in an interview with the Daily Prophet , claims he is actually innocent, despite little evidence in his favour.**

I sat frozen in my seat for perhaps a minute, staring at the headline without reading the rest of the article.

_Innocent_? How could Sirius honestly expect _anyone _to believe that? Did he think I'd believe that? Was he deluded? Had he really lost it in Azkaban?

But, as I thought of it, it was just like him to lie about this. He was always the one to lie to teachers at Hogwarts to cover up for the pranks James, Peter and himself did when I wouldn't lie for them. At that thought, the memories of the Marauders' days at Hogwarts came flooding back to me painfully.

'_Moony!' a raven-haired boy accosted a quieter brunette. 'Prongs wants me to ask you for your help to turn Dumbledore's beard bright pink even though I've already told him you'll say no!'_

And Sirius had lied to me for God only knows how long leading up to his betrayal of James and Lily. Perhaps he never even loved me. That was very possible. The thought was poison, seeping through my mind with agonising effect. Maybe his estrangement from the Blacks was an act. Maybe it was all a very well thought out plan to make a perfect spy.

I'd often thought this before. The more paranoid I became, the more it made sense. It horrified me to think that Sirius may never have loved me. But it made more sense than the alternative.

I regarded the article in front of me with disgust. Then I savagely ripped the entire front page from the rest of the newspaper and hurled it into the dwindling fire, ignoring the fact that it would probably destroy any hope of having a decent flame tonight.

How dare Sirius claim innocence? It was sickening.

The thought preoccupied me completely as I left my grotty flat, half an hour later, to go to…work.

_AN: You can interpret Remus's 'work' however you like, obviously it's not pleasant and very much a last resort for him. As you can see, these chapters are getting progressively shorter, sorry. I'll be doing one more that will be a little longer than a drabble (I'll probably upload it later today) and then I'll stop. Please review! I still love you forever :D!_


	4. Chapter 4

'Moony, why didn't you ever visit me in Azkaban?' he asks his lover. His tone is even, not accusatory, his expression bland.

The other hesitates in answering. 'There never seemed to be a right time…I'm sorry Pads.'

The first one - Pads - frowns. 'What about when I sent you that letter?'

'What letter?'

'The letter I sent through Lovegood,' Pads explains, his frown deepening with every passing second of his lover's nonplussed look. 'Five years after I was imprisoned. The only letter I ever sent you.'

'…I never got a letter,' Moony says. 'Who's Lovegood?'

'The bastard mustn't've sent it,' Pads fumes quietly before answering the question. 'A reporter, he came in to interview me after five years. I think he was with the Prophet.'

'I never got the letter…I think I may have seen the article he wrote though.' His reply is careful, guarded.

'What did he say?'

'I-…can't remember.'

'I told him I was innocent,' Pads persists. 'Did he put that in?'

'…yeah, but he said there was no evidence to back your claim.'

Pads's face twists disgustedly. 'I explained it all to him. Wouldn't listen to a word of it. Gave me a fag though.'

'It wasn't a complete waste so,' Moony smiles slightly and reaches over the kitchen table to kiss Pads.

'Oh my god!' a shrill voice chimed from the doorway.

_AN: I'll let you guess who owns the 'shrill voice' ;). There's the ending so. Hope you liked it. Please review :D!_


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